Wedding Dress
by Silverlining12
Summary: "'Why? Because she's muggle-born' A voice inside his head said. Draco frowned; he would have agreed if he were younger and still wrapped in prejudice, but now, maybe not. There's a much more plausible reason why he can't even think about that. The fact that they hated each other before still stands, and they're not clearly even friends." I suck at summaries :D


As I said, this story here is my shot at a post-post DH fic; although it'll be no marriage law (I hate those kinds of fics…although there had been one or two stories about the marriage law I liked, you guys won't see me doing anything like that unless someone dear to me requests it.) ..okay okay so here it is and I hope you like it.

BTW, this fic is supposed to act as a buffer project for me whenever I get the block with SMFH…so expect it to not be updated as regularly as my first fic. But still I want to give you guys a palate cleanser because I love your awesomeness like that

Anywho, here it is!

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Wedding Dress

Chapter 1: Cotton

Draco Malfoy opened his eyes; the sound of the horrendous roar of his miniature, dragon alarm clock ringing in his ears. He sighed and sat up, rubbing his eyes before reaching for his wand on his bedside table, tapping the dragon once to shut it up. He got out of bed and stepped towards the balcony doors, opening the curtains to let the beam of sunlight wash over his exposed torso. Draco got out of the balcony and stretched, looking down at his mother's blooming Rose garden. The Malfoy Manor looked more beautiful, lighter, and happier since Voldemort fell three years ago, his father long dead after being killed during their run from the war. Him and his mother managed to escape and, with help from Harry Potter, got pardoned in exchange of donating half of their wealth to various Ministry charities. Draco didn't mind; he was far gone from the ideals his father set for him, it was the first time that he felt he was actually free and he loved it. It was like he was given a new life, and he knew he had to make the most of it.

He went back inside the room to take a quick shower before donning a black, button-up and some jeans and sneakers then going out of the door. Walking down the great staircase to their foyer, he saw their house-elf, Plue, whom was the only one left of the house-elves they once owned. There was a new law in the Ministry wherein for every two occupants of a household only one house-elf is needed, hence because it's only Draco and his mother, they picked the most trustworthy. He smirked at the thought, remembering the way his mother reacted when they got the notice, reading the news on the Prophet. He remembered seeing Hermione Granger's name as the spearhead of the law and can't help but feel curious as to how she was doing nowadays; last time he saw her was almost a year ago, when she helped testify for him at the court hearing. He remembered how he shook her soft hands, hands he swore before he would never touch. He heard she was now the head of the Department of Magical Creatures, which didn't surprise him at all. Draco walked out of the Manor gates and disapparated, appearing in front of the Leaky Cauldron, getting a pint of butterbeer from Tom and sitting on one of the barstools.

"How's life going for you, Mr. Malfoy?" The barman asked, good-naturedly looking at the blond man. Draco offered a quaint smile and took a long draught of the beverage before answering, "Better. Been really busy; with Madam Malkin gone for her vacation, I got sole custody of the shop." He said. Tom pulled a face and resumed cleaning some drinking glasses, "Must be tough, eh? I really didn't think you's be stuck with that job. Ain't seem your type; thought them Ministry be giving you the Apothecary instead."

Sometime under a year ago, the Ministry of Magic decided to give Death Eater's children jobs in various parts of the wizarding world. To those who donated large sums of money, like Draco, they were given exams to see which shop in Diagon Alley they would get to co-manage. Draco's first result was the Apothecary, but since he tied with Blaise Zabini, he opted for his second choice. It was highly unconventional for him but then he found contentment in designing wedding garb and grew fascinated with the job.

"Yeah, but my best mate is doing a pretty good job on it. It would be bad to take it away from him." Draco said, putting the empty tumbler down and pushing some sickles to Tom.

"Aye, that is. Have a good 'un Mr. Malfoy." Tom bowed as Draco stood up to leave, going to the back door to the brick wall that leads to Diagon Alley.

He waited behind a curly-haired witch, rummaging around her differently-colored paper bags. He raised an eyebrow at a store brand on one of the bags; Chanel, a muggle store he frequently visited. The woman uttered an exasperated sigh and turned around. Almond, brown eyes met stormy silver ones.

"Hey." Draco drawled, looking at the woman's face appreciatively; full, bow-shaped lips and high cheekbones framed by the once, haphazardly frizzy locks, now softly curled, gave her an innocent yet sultry look. Her button-nose rested just right on her face, making him want to flick it playfully just to see her blush, her carefully plucked eyebrows knitted together in mild confusing surprise. Hermione Granger opened her mouth in disbelief but then smiled nervously, "Hey Malfoy."

"Granger." The blonde man nodded, returning her smile, "Fancy seeing you here."

"Yeah…" Hermione murmured, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, "Erm, do you mind opening the doorway? I might have misplaced my wand in one of these blasted bags. I had to hide it when I was shopping outside." She mumbled. Draco shrugged and moved forward, tapping the brick wall with his wand. He stepped back as the archway appeared, letting Hermione pass through, "Thanks."

"No problem. What's with those anyway?" Draco asked, stepping in a light step beside her. Hermione looked at the bags and walked on, "Oh these after-wedding celebration dresses."

"Oh, who's getting married?" Draco asked, lightly breathing in the scent of her hair. He looked on as she fell silent, her brows again crinkling in concentration as she looked around the streets. Draco found her expression amusing, just like watching a lost child. He moved his line of sight down her dress, smirking at how the Gryffindor Princess managed to have a sense of style over the years; it was an off-white number, sleeveless and just ending above the knee, showing her long, toned legs and decorated with a satin tie-around bow on her waist, perfect for the summer air. She suddenly stopped in front of a shop and her lips turned into a frown, "Oh, it's closed."

"Huh?" Draco pulled his gaze away from the brunette and looked at the establishment and chuckled, pulling out a ring of keys, "I'm on it." He said, stepping in front of her and fumbling with the door.

"I didn't know you worked here." Hermione said as she followed Draco into the little garment shop, waiting as Draco turned on the lights and opened the windows with a flick of his wand, as well as putting a cooling spell everywhere.

"Well, the Ministry put me here so I don't have any choice now, do I?" He answered, getting behind the counter to check the money till. After checking some inventory logbooks and scheduled dresses, he looked up and watched as Hermione started to look at wedding dresses on display, a smile forming on her lips. Draco felt his chest swell with pride at the thought of her liking the dresses, his mind drifting to visions of Hermione in white, alongside him, smiling sweetly. He stopped himself at the thought, unnerved.

'_Why? Because she's muggle-born?'_ A voice inside his head said. Draco frowned; he would have agreed if he were younger and still wrapped in prejudice, but now, maybe not. There's a much more plausible reason why he can't even think about that. The fact that they hated each other before still stands, and they're not clearly even friends. He stopped his train of thoughts again as Hermione approached him.

"Oh, right." Hermione said, stopping at the counter across him. Draco found himself unable to stop staring at her face; is this really Hermione Granger? When did she start to turn out so pretty?

"I was wondering if Madam Malkin can set up an appointment with me." Hermione said bringing him back from his imaginings of their fourth year, "I suppose even if the wedding is still far off, it would be nice if I gave her time to design a gown."

"Madam Malkin doesn't design wedding gowns anymore; I take charge on that." Draco replied. Hermione opened her mouth in awe, her gaze flitting from his face to the gowns and back, "You made those?"

"Clearly." Draco smirked, his heart thumping loudly at her glowing face. She stole another glance at the gowns and back at him, beaming, "I'm impressed, who knew you had it in you?" Hermione said, pulling out a bit of parchment from a purse she unearthed from one of the bags, "Well, I won't ask for samples of gown designs anymore then, but here; it's a list of my measurements and the bride's measurement. Mine's written in blue, hers in red. Don't mix them up please." She said handing over the parchment

"Pardon? These are yours?" Draco asked, impressed. Inner Draco wolf whistled; who knew she had these under her baggy robes.

"I have written there also her special requests. Do your best to satisfy her; you'll never see the light of day if she didn't like it."

"Let me guess; Weaselette's the bride?" Draco mused, rolling up the parchment and putting it in one of the table drawers.

"Yes, so be careful and don't call her that." Hermione said, smiling. Draco nodded and wrote out a partial receipt for labor and material then pushed it towards her so she can sign it, "How long do I have? I'm sure Potter would want to know who will design his future wife's gown. We can arrange a meeting for budget and final preferences and I can show them some samples of cloth as well."

"A month." Hermione answered, signing the paper and picking up her bags, "How did you know Harry's the groom?"

"Who wouldn't; they're practically over each other at Hogwarts. I'd be more surprised if they didn't end up together." He said, eyeing her with interest, a nagging question itching to be released, "How 'bout you and Weasel; weren't you an item?"

"We're not together." Hermione said curtly, Draco hinting a bit of bitterness in her voice, "See you around, Malfoy." She added, turning on her heel and walking off. He watched her exit and walk away from the shop before sitting down, letting out a breath he was holding. He ran a hand through his hair and smiled at the idea of the brunette and him bumping into each other, hopefully everyday, remembering the scent of her hair.

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Hermione finally found her wand and turned on the spot to apparate towards the front steps of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place; Harry's home. She knocked on the doors and waited as she heard footsteps coming from inside. She smiled at the sight of Harry's beaming face, giving him a short hug before going inside, levitating her parcels in front of her and walking towards the sitting room, "Ginny's not home yet?"

"Nah, there's been a slight overtime with the Harpies today; with the Quidditch season coming, Ginny's been working those poor girls to hell. I'd be surprised if they didn't win." Harry answered.

Ginny Weasley became the Holyhead Harpies' captain just a year after she was drafted into the team, ensuring steady, if not, outstanding performance for the two seasons she captained, both resulting in them winning the annual English cup. The Harpies are now aiming to play in the World Cup, hence Ginny's almost always absence at home.

"How 'bout you? Any news about those lost Death Eaters?" Hermione asked, setting the bags beside her on the sofa and accepting the cup of tea from Harry.

"Still no sign since Malfoy's dad. They'd be stupid to return to Britain anyway, so we're relying on International info right now." The raven-haired boy answered, sitting on an armchair beside the sofa.

"Speaking of Malfoy, you'll never guess who I ran into Diagon Alley this morning." Hermione said, rather enthusiastically. Harry raised an eyebrow and chuckled as she spewed on, "Well you will, since I said Malfoy, but funny thing is, he's working at Madam Malkin's."

"Yeah, I know; it's part of the new Ministry law. Most of the Death Eater's children work at Diagon Alley shops now." Harry said, drinking from his cup.

"Well, you'll flip once I tell you he's going to design Ginny's gown." Hermione said smugly, waiting for Harry's flabbergasted face which never came, "Not surprised?"

"Not really, he's been making gowns for a while, fantastic designs even for me who doesn't have a clue about fashion." Harry chuckled. Hermione pouted and sipped on her cup, "How come I didn't know about that?"

"Well, you've been gone for a year, you can't blame us. And without instructions on how to contact you. You know us better than that, Hermione, no contact for a year because of work-related rules?" Harry mumbled, setting down his cup, "Ron's back, last week. We met at the Burrow last Wednesday; he's with his, well, your daughter."

"Yeah, I heard, he's been sending me letters beforehand. He said Courtney's been asking about me since after she read the newest edition of Hogwarts; A History." Hermione said, smiling. She felt a slight twist in her gut at the mention of her daughter. Towards this day, Hermione regretted the decision of giving her up to Ron. But then she was too young, had too many dreams to settle down. Ron married Lavender a year after the war, a few months after Hermione gave birth to Courtney, surrendering the girl up to Ron and Lavender who, even with slight bitterness, loved Courtney like her own. The little girl never knew her real mom, but showed signs that were so unmistakably Hermione.

"She's turning three this year isn't she?" Harry said, testing his best friend's reaction, "Hermione merely nodded and emptied her cup, "I also heard she's been summoning stuff across her room without a wand or any incantations. Definitely your daughter" He added with a grin, earning a mock-glare from Hermione, "She'd be a great witch like you, so don't worry."

"I know, she'd be alright." Hermione said, "I just wished I could, well, you know, take her back."

"It's not too late to apply for custody papers, Hermione." Harry said, banishing the empty cups to the kitchen, "I could pull some favors if you want."

"Nah, it's okay; she's perfectly happy where she is anyway." Hermione answered, fondly remembering the day she saw her little red-head, running around the Burrow a summer a year and a half ago before she decided to take the internship for New Zealand to escape the pressure.

"So, about Ginny's dress, what does Malfoy plan to do with it?" Harry inquired, reclining on his seat. Hermione shrugged, "I don't know. He said he'd contact us about final costs and preferences but he didn't give me a draft on what he's planning. Do you think he can really pull it off?"

"Well, if you saw Pansy Parkinson's dress when she got married to Theodore Nott, you'd have a clue." Harry said, chuckling as Hermione's mouth dropped open, "Yeah yeah, same expression Ginny had when she saw that dress. Which reminds me, she said she's sorry for not telling you about Malfoy being at Madam Malkin's; she thought you'd be upset."

"No, not at all, just surprised." Hermione hummed, tapping her foot on the ground. The sound of Floo travel made them both start in surprise. A couple of seconds later, the exhausted form of Ginny Weasley appeared in the living room, her hair pulled up in a bun and a smile on her face, "Hey Hermione!"

"Hey Gin!" Hermione beamed, standing up to hug her friend. Ginny let go and sat on the couch, groaning in comfort, "Merlin that feels good. So, how did it go?"

"Well Malfoy said to wait. You really sure you want him to make your dress?" Hermione asked, plopping next to her red-headed friend, raising an inquisitive eyebrow, "We can always go to Twilfitt's"

"No. The things he make are sensational, 'Mione, if you only saw what he did with Pug-faced's dress, you'd swear she was pretty." Ginny remarked, laughing, "Come on, he's not that bad of a git anymore. Besides, couldn't you be happier; he's practically your man's best friend right?"

"My man?" Hermione sputtered, shaking her head, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Well a little bug told me that you were seen with a certain Italian in New Zealand last month. And sources say you looked very close. Care to elaborate?" Ginny waggled her eyebrows, making Hermione double over in laughter and Harry look positively clueless. She wiped tears of mirth from her eyes before answering, "We're just friends Gin, he's pretty good."

"Who are we talking about again?" Harry said, looking from his future wife to his best friend, "Or is this another girl telepathy thing between you?"

"Blaise Zabini." Ginny said nonchalantly, "You know, that tall, dark, and handsome Slytherin? Hermione's been going gaga over him, apparently."

"I am so not!" Hermione quipped, her face turning crimson. She stood up and handed the receipt to Ginny and a couple of the bags before hugging them both and going to the fireplace in the adjacent room, "I'll see you guys later, okay? I have to go and report to the Ministry about my research. Dinner at seven?"

"Sure, we'd be at the Burrow, we'll meet you there; mum's making a feast so don't be late." Ginny said, waving as Hermione stepped into the green place and disappearing from sight.

End of Chapter

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Okay, so I know a lot of you have questions right now, but I promise you I'll answer them as long as they don't give away much about the story. About Hermione's pregnancy, Ron and her conceived a few months after the war, let's say a month or two. The reason of their break-up isn't Lavender, unfortunately, but it will all be explained as the story goes. This is still Dramione; Blaise is just going to play a minor but important part in the story. Like I said before, all of my works are not beta'ed so please excuse any wrong grammar, or spelling I have missed during my *ehemnonexistentehem* proofreads…English isn't my first language after all.

Please review, I'm dying to hear feedbacks~

Thanks for reading!~

-Silverlining


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